The banquet hall fell into stunned silence as Percival Covington claimed his place as Lyra's husband. His commanding presence transformed the atmosphere instantly. Everyone stared at him with a mixture of awe and disbelief, including Lyra herself.
Isabelle's jaw remained slack. She seemed incapable of processing what had just happened. Orla's face had gone from triumphant to ashen in seconds.
"Mr. Covington," the event organizer rushed forward, practically tripping over herself. "We had no idea you would honor us with your presence tonight. Please, allow me to arrange a seat for you immediately."
Percival's cold gaze swept over the room. "That won't be necessary. I'll be sitting with my wife."
The word 'wife' seemed to echo through the hall. Whispers erupted among the guests. Lyra felt every eye on her, dissecting her reaction, waiting for her to deny or confirm Percival's claim.
The organizer nodded frantically. "Of course, of course. Right this way, sir."
